


ready to ride

by bleebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Cobra - Freeform, Gen, Regal Believer, Spoilers, Swan Believer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: (SPOILERS FOR 701)Henry gets an important gift from his parents for his seventeenth birthday.





	ready to ride

Henry is sixteen when he gets his driver’s license, but he’s disappointed to find that he can’t have a car all his own. No, it’s either his mom’s old yellow sputtering VW from the 70s, with barely any leg room and a roof that his head skims since his growth spurt began, or his grandpa’s rusty brown truck that takes a few times for the engine to turn over. His other mom’s car is “too nice” to risk him getting into an accident with, and while Killian’s at least  _looks_  cool, Henry can’t stand the steering aid that Killian’s hook latches onto on the steering wheel.

But he likes driving. He can take Violet on dates without having to walk everywhere, or worse, have his parents drop him off. He can spend more time at the sorcerer’s mansion when he needs to be alone – which is pretty often, lately. Now that the town line is free from any magical barriers, he can also take the occasional trip away from Storybrooke and the chaos. (Even when it’s quiet, it’s never really  _quiet_.)

He expresses to his family on many occasions that he wishes to have his  _own_  vehicle. And who cares if his requests seem selfish and ridiculously like a teenager complaining at nothing. He  _wants_  a convertible sports car, all the better for stargazing and wrapping his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders while they lay their seats back all the way. Or maybe a nice, sleek truck with an engine that just  _purrs_ , and a wide bed for ‘reasons,’ he tells his moms, as if they don’t already know the shit he gets up to.

(He doesn’t know for sure why he’s suddenly finding condoms in his dresser and under his pillows, as if some fucking Condom Fairy has dropped by during the night to embarrass the hell out of him, but by the knowing look in his eyes, he’s pretty damn sure it’s Killian’s doing. Or maybe his mom’s. To be fair, she had him when she was seventeen, so it probably isn’t the worst thing to be prepared.)

It occurs to him, though, after a few months, that he’s not thinking big enough – or maybe he’s thinking  _too_  big.

He happens to see August rolling up to Granny’s Diner one afternoon while chowing down on his third (his fucking  _third_ ) cheeseburger, and it’s like… well, it’s like magic. Which is an appropriate turn of phrase, all things considered. The vehemence with which he suddenly wants – nay,  _needs_  – a motorcycle is quite a shock to everyone, including himself. He can picture it all in his head: worn black leather jacket, a good pair of riding gloves, heavy boots, dark jeans, a girl’s arms wrapped around his waist, and the smooth lines of a bike beneath him while he drives into the sunset. He’s pretty sure he could write a damn poem about it and is almost convinced he  _must_  in order to get his family to see why he needs it so much. He’s the Author; he can certainly do it.

But instead, he’s taken entirely by surprise when his seventeenth birthday rolls around and his parents take him outside to show him…

_Damn_ , he thinks, running his fingers along the sleek black exterior. He might cry. Maybe he does, a little. He tries not to let anyone see. After months of whining, as no one but a broody teen can, he’s been gifted with his very own bike. His and no one else’s.

And he has no fucking clue how to drive the thing.

“I think lessons are in order, kid,” his mom says, and he turns around to find her with the smuggest grin he’s ever seen. She nudges his arm. “August is free later. Said he’s ready to teach you a few things. Think you’re up for it?”

“Totally!” He throws his arms around her for a moment and then pulls back to feel the leather over the seat. “This is  _awesome_.”

His other mom places a hand on his shoulder. “You are going to wear all appropriate gear, Henry, if you want to ride that thing.” He wants to roll his eyes, but he knows she means well. Besides, she’s got that glossy look to her eyes which means she’s probably taking a trip down Memory Lane in her head, trying to picture what he was like when he was still a little boy who needed her to kiss his owwies away. “While  _this_ -” She gestures to his new favorite toy. “-would not be my first choice for you, I know you’re… growing up. And it would just mean a lot to me if you’d take care of yourself, okay? No ‘popping wheelies’ or whatever kids do to look cool.”

He chuckles and kisses her on the cheek. (He’s  _so_  much taller than her now. It’s a little strange to realize how far he has to lean down.) “I promise. No wheelies.”

“All right, lad, one more thing.” Killian takes a step forward and holds something out to him. It takes him a few seconds, but he realizes, with a giddy laugh that his still-deepening voice cracks during, that it’s a black leather jacket. “For safety, of course,” his stepdad says, eyeing his mothers. Then, lower, as he leans towards him, “Or just for the roguish scoundrel look. Ladies love it.”

Both of his mothers scoff, but he can’t do anything but grin like a dopey idiot.

“Thanks, Dad.” He’s probably called Killian ‘Dad’ half a dozen times since they’ve known each other, and it’s usually by accident. Now, he says it with conviction and with pride. And if he notices the way that Killian’s eyes widen and his cheeks tint at the title, he doesn’t mention it.

He slides his arms through and lets the leather sit heavy on his shoulders. It smells really good, but more importantly, he  _feels_  good in it. No wonder his parents have such a thing for leather jackets.

With one smooth motion, admittedly practiced on many chairs when no one is looking, he kicks his leg over one side and sinks into the seat. He shifts a few times, getting a feel for it.

“Wow. This is… wow.”

He slowly leans forward and grips the handles, bending his wrist to test it all out. Already he’s desperate to feel the engine revving, to kick off and ride down the street, to feel the wind whipping around him. Already, he feels like the bike is talking to him, telling him to just  _go._ He wonders if it’s enchanted, like Killian’s ship, a beast with a mind of its own there to be his companion.

_One more year_ , he thinks suddenly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

He’s already discussed college with his family. He doesn’t know yet where he’ll be going, what he’ll do… but, now, he can’t wait to make the trip.


End file.
